Note for the reader: I did a little deep dive on my old blog (RIP) and found lots of things that made me crack up (…and lots of things that made me cringe). I’m reposting several of the entries on my blog now in hopes that some ridiculousness will lighten your load for a minute during these wild times. To find more funny stuff, check out the tag #hoardlaughter on my site and on Instagram.

Hermit the Frog - Originally published 8/19/14

Well outside world, it was lovely knowing you and walking around in your sunshine and driving to your Chick-Fil-As and then eating the Chick-Fil-A and then being sad that the Chick-Fil-A was all gone. But now I must become a hermit and watch Law and Order: SVU marathons for the rest of my sad life because I am being held hostage in my own home because of many dangerous creatures.

The front door is being swarmed by giant moths that I am certain are plotting to eat my baby. When I open the front door even a smidge, a few zoom in and eventually die underneath the lamp in the front room, but before that they smack their strange little bodies back and forth in the lamp shade to torment me.

The back door is not an option for me. The darling dogs have been tossing around a dead mole on the back porch, and they cackle in delight. The mole is all rigor mortis (I do a weird hand motion every time I use this term, so you will have to picture me with one bug eye and my hands in frozen claw position), and the dogs are having the time of their lives. SICK FIENDS! Last year they sinisterly captured a mole, bit off each of his feet, and then hid them around the house for me to find unexpectedly. I had approximately 87 heart attacks and had to leave the house for like five days. When I eventually gathered the courage the vacuum those feet up, the feeling of it made my hands feel funny. Sometimes I get that feeling in my hands, and I know that somewhere in the world another mole has died. I am worried I need therapy, and I am worried my dogs will grow up to be serial killers. 

If that weren’t enough, the back door is being guarded by the fattest, slimiest, spottiest, nastiest slug that has ever lived. She is leopard print, and coincidentally she is quite nearly the size of a leopard. Her name is Karen, and she eats babies. She lives by the dog food, she talks like Samuel L. Jackson, and I think she’s wearing sunglasses. I can hear her smacking her slug lips from here because she knows my baby is delicious and she knows I know it and she is taunting me. My only consolation is that it would take her 47 years to even get to my baby, and surely I could muster up the courage to pour salt on her before that?

I can possibly get out of the house via the door in the carport, but the covered light in there has turned into a fly graveyard, and it is very ominous. When I go out there, I hear creepy Pretty Little Liars background music playing, so I keep my head down and run to the car quickly before they can all fall out on my head and ruin my life forever. WHERE IS MY HUSBAND AND WHY HASN’T HE CLEANED THOSE FLIES OUT OF THE LIGHT. I mean, this was one of my top reasons for getting married, so that I would not ever ever under any circumstances have to clean flies out of a light.

Did I tell you about the other day when TWO different spiders in TWO different locations lowered themselves down right above my head?! Two in one day?! What does this mean?! THEY HAVE SO MANY LEGS. WHY DO THEY HAVE SO MANY LEGS. Husband knocked one of them down rather than killing it, and he was flesh colored (FLESH COLORED!!!!), so we couldn't find him because our floor is kind of beige. I think I might have eaten him in my sleep because I was once told that we eat eight spiders in our sleep over the course of one lifetime. Whoever told me that, you are terrible. I am considering giving up sleeping in addition to becoming a hermit.

So that’s it. Obviously I’ll be homeschooling Adelaide, and I’ll have to make up the science stuff since I’m not very good at that, and we will eat cabbage water like they do in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (except with no cabbage because I do not have any), and Adelaide will either end up like Brendan Fraser in that movie I hate or like Nell in that other movie I hate, and someday there will be a better movie that is all about our lives or at least we will get to be on TLC.